A black-and-white photo journey through the Tacoma glass museum with a very special woman I have loved for a very long time. We are reconnected and have a wonderful relationship.
This week, I finally stopped arguing with permanence. Not the things I can change—I know that dance well—but the things I can’t. Chronic conditions. Lifelong diagnoses. Bodies and brains that don’t magically “turn around” if I just try harder. In IFS terms, I hit a trailhead where perfection, fear, shame, and denial were all standing…
Three years ago, I publicly declared I was thriving—healthier than ever, fewer meds, solid friendships, my kids doing better. Four days later, I was drunk, high, manic, suicidal, psychotic, and locked in a psychiatric ward. That cycle repeated until I finally told myself the truth: sobriety wasn’t a preference, it was the only way forward.…
A Christmas letter to my estranged daughters. This year cracked me open in the best possible way — therapy, bipolar treatment, transformation. I’m not the same person I was. I’m not asking them to forget the past. I’m asking for a future where we get to find out who we’ve all become. I miss them…